The Cottage
by Remus J. Lupin-Black
Summary: Sirius gets more than he bargained for when he arrives at Remus’ home. RemusSirius.


**Title**: The Cottage  
**Author**: Ex-Professor Remus Lupin  
**Rating**: PG-13 (rating may go up in later chapters)  
**Genre**: General/Romance  
**Era**: Post-GoF/Pre-OotP  
**Pairing(s)**: Remus/Sirius  
**Summary**: Sirius gets more than he bargained for when he arrives at Remus' home.  
**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author's Note**: I get sick of reading all about the romantic (and quite large) cottage that Remus apparently owns despite being unable to find a job and wearing shabby robes so…this happened. What happens after this…I'm still not sure, but some love to my beta, HK.  
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**Chapter One**  
Arrival  
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Sirius didn't bother hiding his surprise when Dumbledore gave him the address of Remus' place. He had of course been expecting the flat they had shared in London, perhaps even hoping for it. Instead, he had the name of a village just north of London, called Snape – Sirius of course did not see the humor in that – so, once he had gotten over the initial surprise, he had taken Buckbeak north and arrived just outside of the village sometime near dawn a few days before the first of July.

Casting a Disillusionment Charm on the Hippogriff, Sirius led Buckbeak along the edge of the river. Dumbledore had told him that Remus lived about half a mile outside of the village and that all he had to do was follow the river. From there, it was the simple task of following a few directions. He spotted a bridge just ahead and saw someone was standing on it. He stopped, wondering if he should have left Buckbeak at Hogwarts. The figure turned and walked away and Sirius breathed a sigh of relief and urged Buckbeak forward again.

A few close calls later, he was on a narrow road going east. Buckbeak nipped blackberries from one of the bushes that pressed in around them as the early morning dew appeared on the tall grass. The path was lined with tall trees here and there on both sides. He recognized a few as sycamore and oak, but the others were a mystery as he tried to see over the tall hedges on his left side hoping to spot Remus' new home before he arrived. No such luck.

He nearly missed the gate, hidden by a tangle of vines, and had to pull on the rope around Buckbeak's neck in order to stop the Hippogriff from going off to see about getting a few more blackberries. It had been nearly two days since either of them had eaten anything beyond a few mushrooms scavenged from the woods so he could understand, but he need to get off the path should anyone pass by. Pushing open the gate, he led Buckbeak onto a narrow path lined with high hedges.

Remus lived here? Why would he choose to live so far from people?

He was still struggling with this mystery as he made his way down the muddy path, watching his step so as to avoid twisting his ankle. There were a few birds now and they sung as the sun stained the horizon pink and purple. Dumbledore's directions had been clear, the gate on the left side of the road near the blackberries and another gate beneath a sycamore tree.

Stumbling, he caught himself on the roughly made gate, a splinter of wood digging into his palm. With a curse, he fell back onto the ground and ripped it from his hand, hissing in pain as blood welled up. Today just wasn't his day. Standing, he shook his hair from his eyes and shoved the gate open, pulling Buckbeak down the narrow dirt path toward the tiny, red-bricked cottage, cursing.

Sirius had to stop a moment, a particularly violent string of curses dying on his lips as he stared in surprise at the cottage. It was small, but not in what his cousin Andromeda would call quaint; no it was small in the way that made it abundantly clear that there was probably hardly enough room for Remus inside. It was hardly fit for a House Elf to live in, let alone a human being. Buckbeak made a sharp sound and pulled forcefully on the rope in Sirius' hand, trying to back away from the cottage. Pulling angrily on the rope, Sirius tied Buckbeak to the fence, leaving him there staring wildly around as he turned back around to examine the cottage in more detail.

The bricks were old and crumbly, faded by the sun. The roof was gray and slated. There were two small windows, hardly big enough to fit one's head through, on the front. Sirius could see movement behind the yellowing curtains.

Remus.

He stood awkwardly at the door.

Remus lived here. In the middle of this wilderness of nettle and blackberry thorns and long, brown grass. He gazed around a bit more, hoping for some sort of answer. An enormous oak stood nearby; it's branches shadowing the tiny cottage, almost hiding it away from the rest of the world. Sirius felt guilt welling up in his chest.

The door, covered in flaky blue paint, opened and Sirius nearly jumped in surprise.

"Are you going to stand out there all day? Where's Buckbeak?" Remus asked gazing over Sirius' shoulder down the path while Sirius struggled for something to say. "Oh, never mind. Come on in then."

Remus moved aside to allow him in. Swallowing, Sirius had to stoop down to get through the door. He found himself in a dark and narrow tunnel. It was here that he was able to straighten up again and he glanced at Remus as he closed the door behind them. Not turning around, Remus said quietly, "Go on through to the kitchen. I'll be along in a minute."

"Remus?" his voice sounded hoarse and mentally he kicked himself for not finding something better to say.

"I'll just be a minute, Sirius," nodding to Remus' back, Sirius went through the tunnel into the kitchen – if you could call it a kitchen. It was the size of a very large wardrobe. The sink along the back wall beneath the window did not have a tap and there was a shelf along the left wall, presumably for preparing food. A small cupboard hung on the wall over the shelf. On the opposite wall, there was another shelf on which stood a cooking cauldron, a few cracked plates, and a half-full bottle of milk.

Sirius gazed around the tiny kitchen in shocked silence.

"You can get water so I can put on some tea," Remus said, coming up behind him.

"Where's the water?" Sirius asked, moving aside to allow Remus room to maneuver in the tiny space. It was still far too cramped and being this close to his old friend, his…it was stifling.

He had agreed when Sirius had asked together, but had he meant that?

"Outside," Remus said lightly, motioning to a bucket beneath the sink. Sirius knelt down and retrieved it, looking perplexedly at Remus for what he was supposed to do. "There is a well outside with a rope. Hook the bucket onto the end of the rope and lower it down. Just don't fall in yourself."

Sirius, more confused than before, took the bucket and carried it outside. The well was on the side of the house just outside of the kitchen. Sirius could see Remus watching him from inside. He waved and then turned to the well to try and figure out how to work it. It had a wooden roof over it and a simple winding device from which hung a rope. Sirius pulled the rope up and attached it to the bucket, and then lowered it until he heard a slash and the rope went slack. He pulled it back up and gazed into the bucket in surprise. There was water in it.

"Is this enough?" he asked, carrying it inside.

"Just about," Remus replied, looking amusedly at him. "You've never done that before, have you?"

"Never," Sirius said. "It's fun though."

Remus made a sound and turned his back on Sirius to check the blue flames beneath the cooking cauldron. Sirius stood awkwardly behind him, not quite sure if he should offer to help or just go outside. Instead, he examined himself. His robes were stained with blood and filth, his feet cracked and covered with dirt from travel. He was sure he looked awful. Perhaps not as badly as he had looked just after his escape, but he had yet to truly gain back much of what he had lost. His hair, he had cut to rid himself of the tangles that refused to come out, but the shoulder length strands were caked with greasy and dirt.

"How do you wash? This place hasn't got plumbing," he asked suddenly, feeling the overwhelming urge to have a bath.

"I heat up a bucketful of water and wash myself," Remus answered simply. "There is also a river about half a mile from here. If you want a bath, I can show you where it is later."

Sirius gaped at him.

"You do?" he asked horrified.

"Of course," Remus said simply. "As you said, there is no plumbing in this house. I'm just lucky I can heat up the water."

"Moony," Sirius said brokenly, his knees going out on him. He collapsed to the floor and Remus turned to him in surprise.

"What?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

"I–" he shook his head, struggling to his feet, hitting his head on the shelf on the way up, and watching as Remus transfigured the plates into mugs and filled them with tea. "I'm sorry, just tired. I've been traveling all night. Christ, Moony, I'm sorry."

"Sirius," Remus said sternly, holding out a mug, "Don't. We'll get you washed up later and a nap." Accepting the mug, Sirius nodded, taking a sip of the hot tea and watching Remus carefully as he drank his own. "I'm sure you would rather sit down in the sitting room rather than on the floor of my kitchen?" Sirius blinked up at Remus, surprised and delighted to find a coy smile on his face.

"You have a sitting room?" he asked.

Remus turned, leading the way out of the kitchen and down the dark little tunnel into the room at the front. Sirius followed, watching Remus as he walked. He hadn't had the chance to take in how much Remus had changed. His face was lined with worry and his hair, once a pale, golden brown, was streaked with gray. He looked different from the Remus that Sirius still saw in his dreams sometimes.

Of course, Sirius was sure he looked worse in his filthy robes, covered in dirt and probably smelling of dog and unwashed person. Not to mention his yellowed teeth and tangled hair. It was a sad thing that his hair, once his favorite feature, was now too ruined to tell apart from a bird's nest.

He stopped in the doorway of the so-called sitting room, surprised. The room was as small and as square as a prison cell. This did nothing to make Sirius' dislike for the cottage lessen any. The cool morning light was filtering through the faded yellow curtain on the window and the only objects in the room were two upturned wooden boxes that Sirius supposed served as chairs and a third between them that was obviously the table.

That was it. There were no pictures on the walls, no carpet on the floor, just rough, unpolished wooden planks, and there were gaps between the planks where dust and bits of grime had gathered. There were no books, which was heartbreaking really. Remus had loved his books like children. Sirius could easily have stood on his toes and hit his head on the ceiling and the walls – Sirius examined them carefully – they were white, but – he ran his palm against it and the white powder came off on his hand – it certainly wasn't paint.

He was appalled. Was this where his…where Remus, wonderful Remus in his patched and worn robes, lived? Was this all he had to come back to every day for the past thirteen years? It was unbelievable and it was, Sirius admitted, his fault.

Remus put his mug down on one of the upturned boxes and sat down on the other, his long legs, dressed in muggle trousers, folding awkwardly to accommodate Sirius presence in the tiny room.

"Sit down, Sirius," he said, looking at Sirius as he stood in the doorway, guilt flaring up from somewhere deep inside. Sirius swallowed as he lowered himself onto the empty upturned box and set his own mug down beside Remus' on the crate between them.

One thing hadn't changed about Remus, he thought. His eyes were just as beautiful as they had been the first time they had met. The brown irises still flecked with hints of gold, making them a deep amber color. Sirius gazed at him for a moment, watching the lines on Remus' face deepen as he studied him. Sirius wanted desperately to reach out and smooth them away.

"You know," Remus said finally, "I've been thinking about what we're going to do now."

"You mean with Voldemort back," Sirius clarified, knowing it was really the only thing Remus could be talking about.

"Yes," Remus looked away from him, out the tiny window with its dingy curtain. "Harry was there, wasn't he?"

Sirius nodded.

"He says Voldemort took his blood for the ritual and Peter," Sirius' gray eyes narrowed dangerously, "Peter put his arm in it."

"What?"

"I'm not quite sure what sort of ritual he used, but apparently Voldemort gave him a silver one to replace it," Remus was silent as he lifted his mug once more and took a sip.

"Of course," they sat in silence for a few moments, Remus drinking his tea and Sirius watching him, elbows resting on his knees.

Sirius was surprised that after all that had happened, this silence felt almost like it used to. It was as if he was still twenty-two and he could just cross the room and take Remus in his arms as he would have done. Wanted to do. Instead, "Where do you sleep?" Remus gazed curiously at him, so Sirius asked again. "I mean, do you have a bed in this place?"

"Not exactly," Remus answered carefully, his shoulders tense as he set his mug back down, "but a hard surface is good for your back."

All at once Sirius could see the whole situation with terrible clarity. Remus needed help and he wasn't going to ask for it and Sirius was hardly in the position to offer it, but there was no way he would allow Remus to go on existing like this.

"What happened to the flat?" Sirius demanded.

Remus gazed at him for a moment and then shook his head.

"I couldn't stand being there," he said slowly, meeting Sirius' eye. "Not without you."

"Oh," Sirius breathed. "But, why here?"

"Because it is all I can afford. I couldn't inherit my parent's money, so I've had to survive on what jobs I've been able to get. I help out at the bookstore in the village. The woman that runs it gives me a Galleon for helping her out a few times a week. This place is seven sickles a week, so I can afford it."

"You mean you have been living on a Galleon a week for the last thirteen years?" Sirius growled.

"Yes," Remus answered tersely. "I pay the seven sickles for the rent and the rest goes toward everything else."

"Food you mean? Which is why you're wearing the same robes I remember you wearing when I last saw you."

"Sirius."

"Remus–"

"Sirius don't," his voice was filled with steel and Sirius' mouth snapped shut. He remembered a time when he had been able to yell back at Remus. Now, he listened like a kicked dog.

"I – I'm sorry," he said finally. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to you, Remus."

The amber eyes softened and Remus looked away from him, shaking his head.

"This isn't a fairytale Sirius, no matter how much you tried to make it," he said gently. "This is life. My life."

"You deserve a fairytale," Sirius said softly, reaching out and catching hold of Remus' hand, threading their fingers together. It was the most intimate thing they had done in thirteen years and Sirius felt tears well up suddenly at this simple gesture. When had he become so sentimental?

"And you are hopeless," Remus breathed, gazing intently at him.

"So what if I am," Sirius said bitterly. "I think I should be allowed that at least."

"I suppose you are, but it's your fairytale."

"Well, I want it to be yours. You said together, Remus. Back at the shack with Harry and his friends, I mean. You said together and I know you meant more than just killing Peter. I know you did," Remus was watching him silently so Sirius pressed on. "I want a ridiculous fairytale. I want to be able to pretend we could just leave here and forget everything."

"We can't all ways get what we want, Sirius," silence then, stifling as Sirius gazed imploringly at their joined hands and Remus hid behind his fringe of gray streaked hair. So it was over really. Remus had moved on, as was expected really, and Sirius was stuck in the past, clinging bitterly to those few shredded memories that he had.

"I don't want it," Sirius whispered. "I just–"

"What?"

"I miss you," Sirius said finally, lost in thought.

"Sirius," Remus' voice brought him back from his reverie. "No secrets," his amber eyes locked with Sirius' eyes across the small space. "No lies and no hiding. There can't be an us if we're going to hide things from each other again."

"Okay," Sirius said almost before Remus could finish. "Together, then?"

There was a sharp silence between them, Remus gazing searchingly at him and then he nodded.

"I think so."

-  
**Author's Note**: Yeah…fluff and stealing words from the books. Ha.


End file.
